


whump drabbles

by green_tea_mochi



Series: tumblr [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Asexual Character, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Captivity, Character Death, Conditioning, Dehumanization, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Fallen Angels, Fever, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Organized Crime, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Scars, Sickfic, Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Whump, Whumptober 2020, mafia, mind the tags please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_tea_mochi/pseuds/green_tea_mochi
Summary: Whump drabbles brought over from my tumblr, centering around (currently) unnamed and unfinished stories.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character, Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: tumblr [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813699
Kudos: 9





	1. character death

**Author's Note:**

> This work is still very much up in the air. On the off chance that any of these expand into longer works, these chapters will likely be deleted. Just a heads up! As always, my inbox on tumblr is always open.

“Please, oh _god_ , please don’t- you’re going to be okay you just have to- please don’t _leave me_ -”

She was rambling, words frantic and unintelligible, but it didn’t matter really, because Thea’s skin was icy and much too clammy, and suddenly all Charlotte could think about was how she needed to find the old quilt packed away in their closet; heavy with years and disuse; the one Dia would fall asleep with on the ragged old couch in their living room, the one she bundled herself up in whenever there was a storm. Because Dia was so _cold,_ andshe loved that quilt more than anything else they owned, and Charlotte loved Dia more than anything else she had ever had and couldn’t lose her - not yet, not like this.

“You’re going to be okay.” Charlotte murmured softly into the quiet, and she knew it was a lie.


	2. mistakes

“Are you going to be good for our guests, _Blue_?” Nimble fingers shook, breath hitching nearly imperceptibly as Theo stilled. He swallowed, hard and much too loud in the quiet.

 _He was supposed to answer, wasn’t he?_ It was difficult to tell, sometimes, Theo thought; when Sir wanted him to speak and when he wanted Theo to, as he so often put it, _“shut that pretty little mouth of yours,”_. Theo winced as phantom pain clawed it’s way into his shoulder; remembering what had happened the last time he hadn’t answered Sir properly, the deep bruises that had spilled onto his skin.

Theo was pulled back to the question by icy fingers wrapping around his chin and forcing his face upwards. Torre’s eyes glimmered almost amber in the half-light, narrowed and fixed intently on Theo’s face, drinking in the paling of his skin and the panic brimming in his eyes. Theo scrambled for an answer, trying to keep his fear from showing plainly on his face.

“Y-yes, sir, I’ll be g-good.” A pause. Torre cocked his head and smiled down at him, obviously pleased with his response, and Theo felt his hands shake with relief.

Then, so quickly it left Theo dizzy, Torre slipped his hands down to encircle Theo’s throat and forced his head back until his neck began to ache and a white-hot pain burst across his skin. Theo’s eyes went wide; a dazed whimper tearing it’s way from his throat. _What did I say_ , Theo thought frantically, _what did I-_

“What did I **_say_** about your **_stuttering_**?” Torre snarled, inches from his face, all traces of composure evaporating as he forced Theo’s head back until he was gasping for breath and clawing at his hands, desperate.

“I-I’m sor-sorry!” Theo was beginning to panic, feeling his breath catch and throb in his throat. _Oh god_ , he was finally going to die, wasn’t he _?_ Annoyance flashed through Torre’s eyes seconds after Theo realized his mistake. “S-sir, I’m s-sorry!”

One baited breath; another; Theo had his eyes screwed shut counting the frantic pounding pulses of his heart.

Silence, and then the hands eased off almost tenderly, and Theo doubled over in his haste to draw in breath, coughing through the pain lacing up his throat.

Fingers slipped into his hair, soft and tender, combing through the snares and dried blood until Theo could find himself; the trembling of his hands, the raspy inhales of breath. Tor-Sir leaned down, fingers slipping down to cup the molted bruising of his cheek, meeting Theo’s eyes with a mock affection. Or maybe it _was_ affection. Theo couldn’t tell anymore.

“There see, it’s okay.” He murmured, soft, and Theo forced himself to keep his gaze from slipping to the floor, to Sir’s polished shoes. The hold on his face tightened almost imperceptibly and he watched Sir’s eyes harden, glittering stone. “No more mistakes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always enjoyed the dynamic between Torre and Theo, this is definitely one of my favorite pieces I've written for them.


	3. fever

Theo is sick. He’s not sure when he starts to realize it; the feeling comes on slowly, sinking into his skin the longer the day drags on. His hands have begun to shake from where they are folded carefully over his knees. When he lets his head fall back against the wall of the bedroom, it’s cold against his skin, colder than it should be, and he faintly begins to understand. A headache settles between Theo’s eyes and it throbs against the low light of the room. _Not now, please not now._

But it's only more obvious as he sits there in silence; the clamminess of his palms, the ache under his skin, the way the room tilts and blurs every time he shifts from where he's curled in the corner. _Home, home, he wants to go home, he wants August._

The need settles in his chest and it hurts; Theo feels the tears begin to well in his eyes, slip soundlessly down his face as he presses his forehead against his knees. August would know what to do, he thinks, faintly. August would wrap him up in one of their old quilts and sit him down on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa and place soft kisses against his forehead. Theo pushes the thought of August to the front of his mind, focuses on the way his smile used to light up, the dimples that settled onto his cheeks, instead of the chill of the room, the dull ache of his head. He just wants to go _home_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: starry-night-whump


	4. nightmare

“S-sir?”

Theo shivered from his place on the floor; the hardwood cool and unforgiving hard beneath him. Panic was still clawing up his throat from the nightmare and he struggled to calm the rising sense of terror as he imagined the shadowed corners of the room pressing in on him. Invisible hands reached out from the dark, fingers bared into claws.

“Sir? I-I’m s-sorry-” Theo didn’t bother trying to hide the desperation in his voice, chills racking his huddled form as he tried to keep his breathing even. He knew Sir was awake, he _knew_ he was, and Theo knew he should shut up before Sir snapped and locked him back in the basement, but he also knew that he might lose his mind if he had to listen to the quiet for one on more second, _oh god_ -

“What is it, pet?” Theo nearly melted with relief and scrambled up into a kneeling position as he felt Sir’s eyes land on him from the bed. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach he felt like throwing up.

“I’m s-sorry, I h-had a nightmare.” Theo shut himself up before he could mess up any more, half expecting Sir to get up and strike him for stuttering. A beat of quiet stretched into infinity in the shadows of the room.

“And what do you want me to do?” There might have been a taunt somewhere in his voice, but Theo was too relieved to care. Still, he felt a flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks as he realized he didn’t know. What exactly _had_ he wanted Sir to do? The sick feeling returned _. Stupid, stupid, stupi-_

“Come here.” It wasn’t a question. Theo tripped over his feet in his haste to rise, to _obey, to get to Sir before he changed his mind and left Theo terrified on the floor_. He barely made it a foot away from the corner when the collar around his neck pulled tight, wrenching him back onto the ground with a cry. Theo reached for it with shaking hands, suddenly remembering the chain tying it to the post in the wall.

Maybe it was because the bruises were already darkening on his neck, maybe it was the left over anguish from the nightmare, or maybe it was just because he hadn’t seen the sunlight in weeks and was _so, so tried,_ but he dissolved into choked, painful sobs without a thought. It was so easy to let go after god knows how long of being still and perfect that Theo only cried harder, burying his face in his arms. So what if Sir punished him for it; for once Theo didn’t care.

Sir said nothing from his place on the bed, because he knew, he _knew_ what he was doing. Somehow that was worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: starry-night-whump


	5. alone

“You know, deep down, that you don’t deserve to be rescued.”

Theo slumped back into Sir’s arms, hands shaking from where they scratched at the floor. He faintly realized that his fingernails were bleeding, smearing blood across the wood and staining his skin a sickly shade of red. It didn’t matter though, not when Sir was running a gentle hand through Theo’s hair and murmuring softly into his ear. He shivered. Answered.

“I-I know.”

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: starry-night-whump


	6. rescue

“Theo? Theo! O-oh my god, this can’t-sweetie, look at me, it’s me, Theo, god please it’s me-”

Theo sat on the floor of the ambulance, arms wrapped around his knees, a blanket that smelled faintly of vomit snug on his shoulders. Two things he noticed; the metal floor was cold under his fingertips, and the brisk air swept over his skin, caught his hair as he leaned his face into the cool caress of wind. Theo’s eyes were dry as he watched the little sliver of night sky he could see poking through the hinged open doors. _In, out, in, out._

 _It was okay,_ Theo thought faintly, Sir was coming back soon and Theo was going to be so good for him that Sir would finally let him rest. He just had to be good until Sir got back, that was it.

Theo tuned out the world, retreated back the dark and cool place inside of him; people he barely recognized, like faces from a dream, talking rapid fire, smoothing bloody hair back from his skin. Someone was pleading with him, a trembling hand cupping his cheek. _No, no, Sir wouldn’t allow that, don’t touch me._

He didn’t deserve to tell the person off, he remembered Sir’s lessons well, so he stayed silent and swallowed down the rising panic. Tried to curl in on himself, disappear into the floor.

 _Sir will be back soon_ , Theo reminded himself, _he’ll be back for me soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disassociation is a really interesting concept to play around with; especially in whump, where a character closes themselves off from comfort because they forced themselves to forget about their life before.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: starry-night-whump


End file.
